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Diary Entry From the Point of View of Ismene

            My soul cannot bear it any longer, yet death would be the greatest sin. The death of my sister was like my own. I felt it before it was discovered. I knew it had happened. Somehow I feel guilty. Antigone, my dearest sister, told me it wouldn't make a difference that I died, but she didn't know how guilty I was to feel afterwards. If only she had waited a little longer for Creon to come to his senses! She must really have believed in her death to do such a thing, and to cause so much misery for the ones she loved. I do not feel any resentment towards her, however―that would be cruel and selfish. No, I feel resentment towards Creon solely.

            What lead him to do the horrible things he did, I cannot say. I do, however, have a slight suspicion that it was pride. Pure, cold, and hard pride. I will never forget my sister. Now that I write it down it feels foolish of me to say. How could I ever forget her? My dearest hopes that she will be happy in the underworld. Those are the only prayers I have left to say. My mother used to tell us: "You are never responsible for the actions of others." It is now coming back to mind, and I wish I could believe it. The harsh truth still remains though―my sister is dead, and she is not coming back to me. Read more »

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It seems that when people tell you what to do, they always know the right answer. It's easy. Well, let me tell you something. If it were that easy, everyone would do the right thing, all the time. If it were even mildly difficult, people would still be able to do the right thing, all the time. If it were hard, people would still do the right thing. But easy isn't even close, and "hard" doesn't begin to cover it. It's complicated, multilayered, labyrinthine, cacophonous, unbelievable, it's even beyond that, beyond the description of any words I know. And I know lots of really good words. None of them seem to sum it up. Some situations don't seem to have any good solutions. And in the moments when you have to make snap decisions, it's even more impossible, because not only can one not see with the clarity often allowed by hindsight or foresight, but one is being asked to do so on a timer, which starts now, and the clock's ticking away. 

Some days. Some days life feels like a bizarre, twisted race in which, at the starting line, I wasn't actually aware of. I never signed any contracts or was given any terms and conditions, and I didn't know the rules, which I gradually learned as spectators screamed them from the sidelines. They're confusing because all the cacophony and shouting mix in a choppy torrent of adrenaline, and, buffeted amid the chaos with no choice but to go along with it, it's hard to tell what they're saying, if I'm doing it right or wrong. I'm never allowed to move the way I want to; I'm navigating the other competitors who are equally confused but still barreling forwards because they don't know what else they can do. We're like a herd of frightened cattle in a stampede, thundering and shaking the ground. Sometimes I get hurt or just plain tired. But I'm not allowed to stop, may never rest lest I get behind. If I'm oozing into the ground with exhaustion, I have to crawl; if I break both legs, well then, I better keep dragging on with my arms and ignore the thick smear of blood trailing behind. I don't really know why I'm doing this--why any of us are doing this. It seems that I'm crawling and the horde around me is rushing too fast to answer. Some of them don't even really see me. A foot in the back flattens me to the ground, a kick in the head here and there. I try not to stay mad because they don't mean to. They're just trying frantically to keep up like everybody else. And, damn it, most of them seem to be doing it better than me. More easily. Why am I still doing this? Read more »

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What's this blue menu bar thingy called 'Suckerfish Menu' at the top of my page, right underneath the page's header? Does anyone else have this? What did I miss while I was at school?

Journal Entries of a French Girl 1789-1804

July 20^th, 1789

            Today my pa left with a bunch of other men unknown to me, to go fetch some gunpowder and arms. Rumors have been passed around that perhaps, Louis is planning to use military forces to destroy the National Assembly. Wouldn't that be a shame? After all they have gone through to establish it... Others say other foreign troops are commin' to get us. They're afraid our movement will inspire other countries to do the same. We're in danger every second of the day, but I'm not sure which I would prefer; dying of starvation, or of a sword blow. It's just too horrible to think about.

            My pa didn't let my ma go―says it would be too dangerous. The worst part is―he didn't even eat before he went! Says we need the energy. I guess it's true that a few lumps of dry bread from the other day is not much, but it's better than going on a mission on an empty stomach. My pa's a good man. He ain't ever selfish.

July 23^rd, 1789 Read more »

And that's what you're upset about?

Graduation,

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh,

A most glorious time of the year,

when eigth graders move on to the high school,

you can practically smell the fear.

High schoolers get ready for college, 

kissing they're moms and dads farewell,

Juniors blossom and rise up, taking over the seniors spots,

and bursting out of they're shells

Horns beep, white writing reads, "Class of 2013"

Tears sting peoples eyes, kids comfort as siblings cry.

Change has come once again, somewhere between April, May and June,

no one thought it would come so fast, 

People tried to make the good times last,

but everything has to come to a close,

so new opportunities can unfold,

So shy people can become bold,

so souls once just a lump of clay, can mold.

<3

<3

Moi

I feel that bullying is inevitable and preventable. I think it is inevitable because it can happen anywhere at any time. It mostly happens at schools, buses, playgrounds, and sometimes at home. From my personal bullying experience on the bus. I was bullied by an 8th grade boy at school and out and on the bus. The first time I was ever bullied no one helped they just watched. I was getting on the bus and he pushed me out of my seat on the bus floor. Every time I would get up he tripped me. The second time was in school he would push me up against walls, threaten to push me down the stairs, and he would even threaten to kill me. The third time he actually hurt me. I was at my friends soccer game and the bully was there too. I was lying on the ground doing nothing and he came over a stepped on my ankle as hard as he could next thing I know...He had broken my ankle. No one helped, no one said anything, I hid my pain. At that point I tried to end my life because all the pain and hate got in my head. It was a bad idea but now I'm okay. But I do think that it is preventable because if you are being bullied at school and someone is watching they could run to the nearest teacher and say, "Help my friend is being bullied" I have had someone help me. My friend Katelyn was watching me get bullied walking down the stairs so she told him to back off or she would do something. Read more »

Rainfall cools the air. Each drop splatters on my slippery skin, The pounding of my feet and the sound of falling rain beating on stones, the horses' and cows' agitated noises in the background have a kind of lulling effect. A dog barks, barks over and over, insistently. Something's got the animals in a frenzy. Hooves beat in rapid succession, thundering across the ground. They're not just unhappy about my presence or the chilly rain. They're afraid down to their cores. Maybe I should be, too, but I'm not. I'm just not. All that exists are my breathing echoing in my ears, the rhythm of each footfall, the power behind my slamming heart, cooling rain moistening my skin, and mild distant background noise. 

I feel like my writing is not appreciated. I am doing my best commenting on other people's writing, but guess what, I come on and see no comments on my writing! I'm now thinking of leaving because of this. I only get about one comment a month. This is the reason chat was taken away for a while-because of lack of comments! I would really appreciate it if people would read my writing that I have been working hard on the past few days.

I think my perfect vacation would be to go to Florida. I would really like to go to Disney World for about 4 park days and 1 pool day. I would go everywhere I possibly could and I would be there forever and ever. I would only be there with my friends. My friends and I would go on every ride there is. I have heard from other people that it is really fun but there is normally a lot of people there. But I would still want to go.

By Eliza, grade 3 

Bothers, sometimes they fight but when you go to bed you are all ways happy to have one. Well I was not so lucky. My bother died 12 minutes after he was born. He died because his left lung clasped. The doctor rushed to keep him breathing but all of a sudden, he just stopped. Those 12 minutes were the longest of my life. When we left the hospital, there was a accident. A very bad one, and me and my dad were in it. A pickup truck side swiped us ( on the drivers side). My dad was in critical condition, I on the other hand, I was fine. Just a scratch or two. Soon I won't have a dad to ride bikes with or play catch. I also won't have a brothay ever.er to teach the alphabet to or to hold in my arms when I watch tv. Today really was the worst day ever.

Ppl. PLZ stahp typing lyk dis.

My first sight of Belize showed a sunlit stretch of ground dotted with palm trees and a few brightly colored buildings. As the airplane drew level with the building and bumped down to Earth I saw big letters on the side of the building--two sentences on either side of the big window. On the left side it read, "Welcome to Belize," and on the right, "Bienvenidos a Belice." I loved Belize, and not just for the tourist sites. We did that stuff, yes. We went tubing through caves, we went ziplining through the jungle, we toured Altun Ha, a Mayan ruin site, and we went reef snorkeling in water as clear as flawless aqua glass. That day, I recall, I held a slithery tentacled creature called a "spiny starfish" which caused a fit of hysterical shrieking from a small child whose father kept urging her to, "Just hold it, look, it won't hurt you." But I also loved Belize City and its markets, the real ones, not the tourist facades. Children in school uniforms chased each other around their parents' business stalls. In a jewelry tent, a toddler napped peacefully on a table in the calm breeze while her mother offered me various headbands and shell necklaces. Belize doesn't have chain corporations, but we went to a little fast-food stand that might have been the  Belize equivalent of McDonald's and bought a wrap with fried shark and spicy onion sauce. I also ate ox tail and a dish called "Royal rat." (Not actually rat, but a kind of possum-like creature). Belize City gave me my first taste of the daily life of other cultures, and I was intrigued by each new experience. Read more »

During school vacation, my family traveled to the Bahamas. We stopped at the beach, which was a tourist attraction. So men and women were coming around trying to sell whatever they could. The term I heard the most was “Banana boat rides!” A Banana boat is a two long inflatable bananas that connect in the middle. Our family and our friends wanted to try. So my mom, my sister, my brother, Lillie, Jill, and Henry all went on. You have to straddle the banana and hold on by a rope. The water was clear and they promised they wouldn’t take us out too far. 4 other people hopped on the boat. An older man, two teenagers, and a little boy. Probably about six or seven years old. We put out life jackets on, and headed out. It was like tubing in the ocean! It was really fun! I was glad I wasn’t sitting in the front, because water sprayed up in their faces. All of a sudden, they little boy started falling off. All of us on the banana boat yelled “Stop! Stop!” to the men in the motor boat pulling us. The little boy never fell, but came extremely close to it. So the boat started up again. We started hitting major waves, and we all almost fell. But then, one side of the banana boat started to tip. Read more »

I've made many wishes in my life, wishes on birthday candles and pennies tossed in fountains and 11:11 and shooting stars. But the truth is, they were all a waste of wishes, I can see that now. World peace and no more troubles. Sure, well-intentioned, but nowhere close to hitting the mark of reality. In our aim to ease our lives we would take away everything that makes it a story: the uncertainty, the intensity of emotion, the hardship, the exhausted triumph of those who kept dragging onwards and made it. We were at a church when I made my final wishes, the ones I believed in most. We'd researched world hardship: violent wars, refugees, crippling poverty only a few among the topics. The whole world cries, hurts, screams, or lies awake pulsing fear in silence. I didn't pray to God to guide them all safely. I wanted to, but not everyone does make it safely to their end goals, nor do they always find what they were seeking there. It would be a waste. Following a great deal of candlelit reflection and thought, these three wishes formed. Dear God, please help me to make a difference it the world. Please help me to become a better person everyday than the one I was the day before. And please, for everyone who struggles and suffers, no matter what events comprise and conclude their stories, please give them a life that in the end makes their pain worthwhile. Please make it worth it, for them and for me. The candles flickered as I bent over the paper to write my prayers, and then I'd done all I could believe in, in the way of wishing. Amen.

(I saw that my sister wrote a letter to herself and I really enjoyed it. So I decided to write one myself.)

    Dear 20 year old me,

I hope you haven't changed that much. I hope you have met new people, but still have your friends from childhood. I wish that you still hang out with                                        

Dear bully, Read more »

My high school is a very good one as high schools go, but you know what? I graduate in a month and a day, and I can't wait to get out of here. Part of it's home. The house that was once cozy is now cramped. It's grown too small for all of us. I'm dreaming about getting away. Little things, like using a mouthwash bottle that isn't sticky with a hundred fingerprints. Like having my own food, rather than going to pour myself some of my favorite cereal, only to discover that someone, probably my brother, has eaten it all and put the empty box back on the shelf. Like fighting for the best chair in the living room or having to beg a ride when I want to go somewhere. Like my parents complaining that I don't have a job, never remembering that I have no reliable way to get there.Like all the memories banging on the windows and crying for attention, ghosts of the way things once were. And then part of it is school. Some of us are mature, some of us really ought to be demoted back to the playground. I'm sick of being so tired, of dragging myself out of bed at the same time every morning when it is clear that I need more sleep. You see, I can do late nights and late mornings. I cannot do early nights and early mornings as my current schedule dictates. I like the idea of eating when I want to eat and sleeping when I'm tired and picking the classes I want to take. Picking my schedule seems like the best thing of all. I'll avoid early classes so that I can sleep in. And that's all I have to say.  I feel like I'm crawling out of here.

He has short attention span in everything he does,

He could be better, but he stays a coward.

He tells you to shut your mouth, when you have asked a simple question,

And sides with the only the people that have power.

His friends seem to tolerate him, only because of the popularity he brings,

and he is popular only because people are scared to defy him.

Does this remind anyone of something? possibly a tyrant?

He dictates the conversation.

He glares at us at the lunch table, judging our movements

and if he was a tyrant would most likely slay me if he was able.

He uses harsh words, he uses mean words, he tactics that get a response.

I don't know if ever a person has told him,

Stop, what your saying is hurtful and wrong.

Bored, tired, stuck in school...Internet!

1. Everlasting candy.

2. A tree house that has a swimming pool, hot tub, king size bed, a fountain of chocolate, everlasting strawberries to put in it, an in-door soccer court, big screen t.v., 5,000 tablets and every other electronical device to hold memory, a throne, and for emergencies, a zip line attached to the window.

3. 1,000 more wishes.

by Oren, grade 3

I was listening to my favorite song called "On the Floor." It was almost my bedtime which is at 9 o'clock! It is when I am in bed. Now I love my phone. 

by Elaina, grade 3

I wish I could have eighteen cocker spaniels because they are so fun and joyful.

I always wanted 500 crayons because it's so fun to draw with them.

I have so many wishes but I want this one most of all: to always have my family by my side to support me and I will support them.

by Kelly, grade 3

If I had three wishes I would wish for more wishes. With my second wish I would wish for peace. With my last wish I would wish for happiness to everyone in the world. I hope my wishes come true. If they do I'd give these wishes to you too!

by Luke, grade 3

I would wish for a puppy.

And I would wish for a kitten.

I'd wish for a car, too!

by Mckayla, grade 3

I walk up the attic ladder, my joints aching from arthritis. Now I am 75, and my legs don’t work anymore like they used to.

I sneeze from the dust, then open my old trunk from my childhood

September 1, 1961

Dear Diary- Read more »